


Down Came the Rain

by HotCocoaMocha



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cold Weather, Common Cold, Coughing, Gen, Rain, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Sneezing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, bronchitis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 21:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotCocoaMocha/pseuds/HotCocoaMocha
Summary: Spiders, rain and a cold spreading in public areas don't mix, especially in cold weather.





	Down Came the Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just wanna say that getting sick a _great_ way to get back into writing.
> 
> (It's sarcasm. Feeling gross is not so great.)
> 
> Enjoy~

What a day to get sick.

 

Peter brings up a hand to muffle his coughs, each one rattling his frame and scratching his throat like a toothpick. He wipes his nose with his sleeve as he sniffs. At first, he figured being an enhanced human would save him from having to deal with a measly cold, but no. This "measly" cold is starting to kick his ass.

 

_The Parker luck strikes again._

 

He only took one step outside, and got drenched spectacularly from today's downpour. Now he's sitting in Happy's car looking like a drowned rat, and the ache in his limbs, along with the fuzzy feeling in his head, is not helping.

 

"Hey." Happy rolls down the screen. "We're at the compound."

 

Peter gets out of the car and makes a mad dash for the building, throwing a hasty "Thanks for the ride!" over his shoulder. He smashes the up button for the elevator, and while he wants to sit down, he would rather not get the couch wet.

 

F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice startles him out of his daze. "Mr. Parker, you seem to be experiencing cold symptoms. Should I call Dr. Banner for a check-up?"

 

"No!" The A.I. isn't a biological organism—or, at least, it's not showing a hologram of a person—but Peter finds himself waving his hands frantically. "N—no. I—I just need to get warm and dry off. That's all."

 

"But your temperature is high despite the cold weather—"

 

"Fri, it's fine, really." From what he recalls, Bruce and Tony were working on something together in the lab. They're probably still there, and Peter didn't want to disturb them if they're really busy. "Tell me where I can find some medicine, and I'll be fine. Let them know I'll be a little late."

 

"Will do."

 

The doors open, and Peter steps into the elevator. "Thanks Fri."

 

He tries to be as quick as he can, jogging to his room down the hall and snatching the spare sweatpants and t-shirt—which are _thankfully_ still dry—from his backpack before peeling off his soaked clothes.

 

The slightly hot water from the shower feels like a blessing. A hot bath would be nice, but he has an appointment to make, so after he finishes scrubbing, he turns off the water and grabs a towel to dry himself in spite of the dull ache in his arms.

 

He's pulling on his pants when there's a knock on the bathroom door. "Peter?" It's Tony. "Happy said you were a little off during the ride." Oh shit. "You okay in there?"

 

"Y—yeah!" Peter slips into his shirt and opens the door. "I'm okay—!"

 

He sneezes.

 

Welp. There he goes.

 

Back to Aunt May and her fussing over him.

 

"Gesundheit."

 

"Thank you. Give me a few minutes, I'll meet you in the lab!"

 

Tony raises an eyebrow, and Peter hopes he doesn't try something like touch his forehead or anything.

 

"Alright. I'll see you there."

 

The older man turns around, closing the door behind him, and Peter sighs in relief. Unfortunately, triggers a coughing fit, each cough scratching his throat and, yeah, it feels like he swallowed a few toothpicks.

 

"Peter?"

 

_He's still here!?_

 

Tony opens the door. "I just heard you coughing."

 

"Uh, yeah, uh—" Peter turns his head to cough and clear his throat. "My throat's a little itchy. That's all."  _And it's a little hot and cold in here. Why am I thinking of a Katy Perry song...?_

 

"Because it's late into sweater weather and you're pretty warm."

 

Peter did not see that one coming.

 

He slumps a bit, resigning himself to leaning into Tony's cool hand which had snuck its way to Peter's face. To his displeasure, Tony pulls back.

 

He wraps an arm around Peter's shoulders and steers him to the elevator. "Let's get Bruce to check you out, yeah?"

 

Peter can only sniff and nod. "Are you gonna send me home...?"

 

Tony snorts. "With the weather getting worse outside? Heck no. It's too risky for May and Happy to drive right now. Besides, May's out of town, isn't she?" Peter cringes at the thought, not wanting to imagine May in a car accident because of poor driving conditions. It might be his imagination, but Tony tightens his hold on him. "We'll wait for the storm to pass. If it doesn't, or you get worse, you'll spend the night here." He pointedly squints at the boy. "But you're definitely not working."

 

The elevator doors open. At the computers, Bruce is typing away on a keyboard, pausing every now and then to jot something on a clipboard.

 

Tony opens his mouth to speak, but Peter's sudden coughing does the job for him.

 

Bruce spins around in his boss chair, frowning. "I do  _not_ like the sound of that."

 

Peter mutters under his breath, "I don't like how it feels, either." He brings up his arm to muffle his coughs again, this time feeling pain in his chest.

 

Bruce walks into a storage closet—dubbed a "first-aid closet" because of the medical supplies gradually stocked in there—while Peter sits on the leather couch. Tony rubs his back as Peter is hit with another coughing fit, which somehow feels harsher than the last one.

 

A thermometer is pokes at his lips. "You know the drill. Open up."

 

Even with the slight disturbance of something sticking under his tongue, Peter feels himself drifting off. The only thing that brings him back is the thermometer beeping.

 

Tony glances up from his phone. "What's the verdict, your honor?"

 

Bruce narrows his eyes at the numbers. "99.9. Not too bad, but it's very close. I'll grab some NyQuil."

 

"Should we bring him back up to his room? Or is it easier to watch him down here?"

 

"Hm...It might be better to leave him alone in his room. That way, we don't wake him up with what we're doing here."

 

"Alright, Underoos." Peter grunts when Tony lightly claps his shoulder a few times. "You heard the judge. Up we go. F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn up the heat a few notches."

 

"Will do, boss."

 

Peter sighs as the heater turns on, the trip back to his room being a haze.

 

The next thing he knows, he's on his bed with Bruce holding out a tiny cup of dark green liquid and a small glass. "Drink up, buddy. You'll need it."

 

He washes down the NyQuil with big gulps of water and curls up on the bed. (Although with his metabolism, it might only be a few hours before he needs another dose.) He mumbles a soft "Thanks" when Bruce pulls the blanket over him and Tony stacks another one on top.

 

"Sleep tight, kid." Tony ruffles Peter's hair. "Get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to call us if you need anything."

 

"Thanks, Mr. Stark..."

 

The lights switch off before Bruce and Tony even leave the room, leaving Peter to snooze in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting caught in the rain is also a great way to get back into writing!
> 
> (Once again, it's sarcasm. Stay dry folks. Remember to bring an umbrella.)


End file.
